


The Coat

by Melynda Jensen (edwardsmom)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwardsmom/pseuds/Melynda%20Jensen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly she felt his hand on her back, shoving her against him as he turned aside and opened his black overcoat to conceal her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Coat

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as a stand-alone, but turned into three parts.

Skinner got out of the car and walked towards Scully, anger clear in his measured stride. 

She ignored him and addressed the police officer. “During the arrest, did you notice any — ”

“Agent Scully.” She refused to respond to the tone in his voice, but the officer looked past her shoulder at the man behind her, relinquishing the discussion to him. At that moment she hated the AD, how his physical presence could intimidate like that with just two words and a glare. 

She didn’t turn. “Sir.”

“Walk with me.” 

She pushed past him and walked back to his car, then stared up at him defiantly. “Yes?”

“I thought I made myself clear,” he said in a low, intense voice. “You were _not_ to continue further with this investigation.”

“You gave me the order but not the reason behind it,” she answered as evenly as she could. “Given the nature of this case and the absence of any compelling reason to terminate the investigation — ”

“I don’t have to justify anything to you. And you’re bound by oath to follow my orders.”

She returned his glare, fire to his ice. “I’m an agent because the Bureau trusts me, with my training _and_ my instincts, to think for myself when I’m in the field. There’s something going on here and I don’t need a supervisor on a power trip thinking he can pull my strings — ”

He bent closer, saying harshly, “Listen to me! This is not about petty politics.” His voice dropped even lower. “This is about your career, and your life.”

Scully stared up at Skinner, his words and expression sluicing her rebellious anger away, and she could feel fear starting to rise. “I don’t understand.”

“The moment they see you here — ”

“Who? Why do you think anyone’s watching — ”

Suddenly she felt his hand on her back, shoving her against him as he turned aside and opened his black overcoat to conceal her. Scully clutched at him, off balance, but his hand steadied her, pressing her more firmly against his starched shirt. 

“What’s happening?” she whispered, barely able to hear her voice above the beating of his heart.

“I don’t think they’ve seen you. Hang on.” His arm went around her waist, lifting her as he turned to open the rear car door. She started to put her arms around him, then, realizing that her hands made a bulge under his coat, she hooked her thumbs through the beltloops on either side of his waist. 

He opened the door awkwardly and they maneuvered, her legs between his, so he could kneel on the back seat and lean far over, pretending to rearrange something there. They let go of each other and she rolled onto the floor. He removed his coat and threw it over her, shut the door, got in the front seat and drove away. Only when he stopped the car and turned off the engine did she venture to make a sound. “All clear?”

“All clear.”

She threw off the coat and sat up in the back seat. They were in the FBI parking lot. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I got — an anonymous tip this morning,” he began, looking at her in the rear view mirror. “And I was able to reassign Mulder, but not you. I was hoping you’d just accept my word and leave the case alone.”

She met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m perfectly capable of making the right decision, given all the facts. If I suspect someone’s deliberately keeping something from me, though — you really should know me better by now, sir.”

“I should,” he agreed ruefully. “Okay. I need to go upstairs and see where things stand, if I can.” He raised his eyebrows in question. 

She handed over his coat and answered with a small smile, getting out of the car, “Don’t worry. I can stay out of trouble, sir.” 

***

Scully shook her head, realizing that she was staring at dust motes floating in the narrow beams of sunlight that rarely made it down to the basement office. The cursor hadn’t moved on her computer for close to an hour now, despite the fact that she’d been trying to concentrate on her report. She had a backlog as long as her arm and knew she was falling farther and farther behind with every minute gone. But the screen held no fascination for her.

Because the man who in her more neutral moments she’d thought of as an obstacle in her way and in her more heated ones as the ex-Marine who would as soon jump down her throat for a minor infraction as look at her, she…wasn’t thinking about in either of those ways. 

When she’d first caught herself thinking about the AD in an inappropriate manner, she had forcefully put the thoughts from her mind, shocked and embarrassed for herself. But each time she caught herself, it was easier to dwell on the thoughts, and more pleasurable.

She slumped in her chair and sighed. Fight, or give in? She closed her eyes.

And was again overwhelmed by the scent trapped in the black wool overcoat of a man who’d held her hard against him, making her feel every muscle in his body move as he rescued her stubborn self from danger. She opened her eyes and saw, not the computer screen, but the same man hovering over her prone body, even briefly, as if he were a lover, gaze locking with hers before she’d fallen to the floor of the car and tucked the coat around herself. 

She didn’t even have to concentrate to feel his hand on her back, his arm around her waist, because the fleeting moment had imprinted itself on her body. She could imagine his other arm around her, his hands moving — 

Scully stared blankly at the ceiling. _Dana Katherine, get a grip_.

That was the voice of reason. And her fertile imagination, in active war with that voice, was finding that she’d stored away quite a bit of information about the AD without even realizing it.

Skinner’s expression had an unnerving intensity even at the best of times, and imagining that his incendiary glare was prompted by one kind of passion instead of another wasn’t that big a leap at all, really. His all-too-familiar groan of exasperation at the latest X-Files fiasco easily turned into another kind of groan in her mind. The muscles in his powerful arms and torso (obvious even to her previously uncaring eye under his perfectly knotted ties and starched shirts), muscles tensed to keep him from lunging across the desk and throttling her or, more often, her partner, she could free-associate any number of ways, most of them getting rid of the desk and rotating his axis of orientation 90 degrees or so — 

But the real question was, how could she get inside that coat again? What if she was outside without her own coat and it suddenly started to snow?

_…and then Skinner, seeing her shivering, walked up to her and opened his heavy black overcoat to shelter her. She pressed herself against him as they walked slowly along, his arm encircling her shoulders as she clung tight, surrounded by the feel and smell of him, his heart beating beneath her cheek. And then she tugged on his tie and pulled him into a darkened alcove, pressing herself back against a wall so that his body blocked her and her movements from sight. She undid the tie and started unbuttoning his shirt, the better to feel his body heat, slipping her hands inside to warm them on his well-muscled chest. His hand went behind her, cushioning her from the wall, his thumb caressing the small of her back as he forced her body closer against him. She tugged his shirt loose from his pants and her hands stroked him from chest to waist…_

Scully felt again his waist in her hands as she’d clung to him before he’d gotten her into the car, and looked down at her hands, amazed at how sharp the memory was.

_…and then she was slow-dancing with Skinner to a song heavy with saxophone on a crowded dance floor, a hand resting on his shoulder, the other holding one of his hands, his other hand resting lightly on her upper back. Gradually, as the press of the bodies around them confined them to a smaller and smaller space, he brought their joined hands closer to their bodies and she swayed her hips against him in time to the music. She brushed a finger against the side of his neck, the lightest of caresses, and then her hands dropped to his waist, holding him there as they continued to dance. His hand on her back moved around her until he was embracing her. He tilted her chin up, and bent and kissed her. Her hand went to his face, and she felt his tense jaw relax under her caress, his stern mouth soften against hers. As they moved away and looked at each other she reached up to remove his glasses and looked deep into his dark eyes…_

But he’d been wearing his glasses that morning, and for once she hadn’t seen her expression reflected back at her on those lenses, had felt something other than challenge or contrition as she’d held Skinner’s gaze. Looking right at him, their eyes had met in a moment of pure understanding, of two wills become one, as he’d poised above her.

_…and then she was lying beneath him, watching as he teased her, resting his weight on his arms and refusing to let her feel his body on hers. She locked gazes with him, begging him while his dark eyes laughed at her. He dipped his head and kissed her, but pulled away before she could deepen it. She couldn’t help a moan, she wanted to feel all of him against her right now. Her hands went to his broad shoulders, caressing along his powerful arms, and then back up again, taking his face in her hands as he shook his head once at her. She let her hands drop on either side of her head, frustrated as she looked up at him. And then deliberately she moved her hands to her breasts, cupping them as if offering them to him. He seemed to like the sight. She brushed her fingertips over her nipples lightly, slowly, her eyes closing and her lips parting as she brought them gradually erect. She felt a sudden breath, cool on her overheated skin, before a wet mouth descended and nudged one of her hands aside, laved her nipple, teeth scraping gently as his mouth took full possession of her breast…_

Scully jumped out of her chair as she realized that she’d had her hands on her breasts, had actually been touching herself at work. _My God, Dana, what the hell are you doing? What if someone walked in here??_

_…and then Skinner came down to the basement office wearing his overcoat, on his way back from some errand outside the building, and started to talk to her about something that couldn’t wait. She asked him, “Are you cold, sir? Why don’t you take off your coat?” He shrugged, tossed it over a chair, continued his discussion and went back to his office, leaving the coat behind._

_Scully picked it up and weighed it in her arms, and then buried her face in it, inhaling deeply. She slipped it on and smiled at how ludicrously large it was on her, reaching down to her ankles, the sleeves flopping uselessly past her hands. But it was still warm from him, and it felt almost like being inside his body, and not just his clothing. She stroked the wool, then pressed more firmly as her hand traveled over her breast._

_Too much material between her hand and her body, between her and the coat. She took it off and quickly undressed, then put the coat back on. The satin lining glided over her hardened nipples as she pulled the coat tightly closed, folding herself into it. She walked back and forth, feeling the heavy movement of it around her legs. Then she struck a Skinner pose, letting the coat fall open and leaning her weight on one foot as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at nothing. And then she couldn’t help a giggle as she thought about how she must look._

_Hm._

_Before she could lose her nerve she stepped back into her pumps, buttoned the coat up to her neck and went to Skinner’s office. He was standing by the conference table and looked at her, frowning, as she closed the door behind her. “Agent Scully, why are you wearing my coat?”_

_“This is your coat, sir?”_

_“It’s obviously not yours,” he said dryly. “Take it off, Agent Scully.”_

_She pushed up the sleeves, freeing her hands. And she undid the buttons one by one._

_He took a step towards her as if to stop her. “What…are you doing?” he asked, and she smiled at the look of frozen disbelief on his face._

_“You told me to take it off, sir.” She added with her most innocent expression, “And I _am_ bound by oath to follow your orders.”_

_She bent to undo the last buttons, then straightened and shrugged the coat to the floor. He crossed the distance between them in one stride, bending for the fallen coat, hurriedly pulling it back over her shoulders. And she looked up at him, her blue eyes not the least angelic as she took one of his hands and guided it, first to the hollow at the base of her throat, and then between her breasts._

_His eyes were almost black as he returned her gaze, burning her with its intensity. And then with a growl he twisted his other hand into the hair at the back of her head, forcing her face up to his as he kissed her hard and insisted on her response. She opened her mouth wide underneath his, helpless against kisses so consuming they blocked everything else from her senses except him._

_He raised his head and looked at her. “I don’t have to order you, do I?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild as he began to undress._

_She couldn’t get her voice to work. Finally, she managed through lips that felt bruised, “N-no, sir.”_

_“You don’t know what you’ve started, do you?”_

_He stood before her, gloriously naked. “Show me,” she whispered, so wet for him she ached._

_His arm went around her waist and he lifted her onto the conference table, laying her back on his overcoat. Then he moved on top of her, parted her legs and with one sure stroke buried his fully erect penis deep inside her. She cried out and he stilled, letting her get used to the feel of him. Nothing existed for long moments except mouths and fingers and trembling hands and arms, hot, sweaty skin and incoherent sounds as they explored each other impatiently, urgently and his hips continued to grind against hers, reminding her he was still inside her._

_When she began to writhe beneath him, urging him to find his rhythm, he grasped her hips firmly and withdrew, then began to thrust into her, so hard and deep she shuddered with each stroke. Her stomach contracted as she exhaled suddenly, crying his name, her whole body quivering with orgasm. But she felt herself spiraling even higher, tension building unbearably as he continued to thrust into her and make her come. Her hands moved restlessly over her twisting body, trying to contain the sensations even as every part of her moved towards another release, and then another—wave after wave of pure pleasure washed over her, overpowered her…_

There was a knock on the door. 

Scully sat down hard, startled. 

A quick glance around the basement office oriented her. She self-consciously smoothed her hair behind her ears before she rested unsteady hands on the computer keyboard and said in a reasonably even voice, “Come in.”

Skinner opened the door, his black overcoat swinging open loosely as he leaned into the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. “I’d like to discuss something with you, Agent Scully.”

She moistened her lips.

And smiled.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Were the gods ever going to _reward_ him for trying to save that woman’s ass?

Skinner collected his messages from Kimberly before he went into his office to check his voice mail. He wasn’t sure what signal he was looking for, what would indicate that he’d been able to literally pull Scully, who had disobeyed a direct order, out of her investigation in time and that she and Mulder (whom he’d been able to reassign before the whole potential fiasco even started) were safe. There were no vague threats, though, nothing unexpected waiting for him and he decided to interpret this as for the best. Now he just had one more loose end to tie up, get the car Scully had requisitioned back from the scene, and then — 

He started to shrug into his heavy black overcoat when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a stain on his shirt. His suit jacket had partially concealed it, but when he drew his arm back, as he had to put on his coat, it was clearly revealed: a pale pink imprint of half of Scully’s mouth. 

“Shit.” 

Apparently, when he’d done his “cavalry to the rescue” act and swept Scully inside his coat to hide her before he could bundle her into his car, he must have shoved her face against his shirt. And in all likelihood not only was he going to show up late for his next meeting, but look like he’d just had an assignation as well. 

Were the gods ever going to _reward_ him for trying to save that woman’s ass? 

Well, at least this time he wasn’t getting the crap kicked out of him. He exhaled heavily, wondering if it was possible to hide the stain, and buttoned his jacket up. A careful glance at his reflection in the window showed his tie as the only spot of color against his white shirt if he didn’t move too abruptly. He pulled on his overcoat and walked out of his office.

“Kim, I might be late for my next meeting.” She nodded.

Skinner got the spare keys for Scully’s car from the requisition desk and hailed a cab at the curb. As he rode out to where he’d caught up with his errant agent earlier, he became aware of a strange, radiating warmth against a small part of his chest and frowned. He checked his pen, which wasn’t leaking, and put it back slowly, but the patch of heat remained and he couldn’t think what else could cause it.

He found Scully’s car not far from where he’d confronted her about disobeying his orders. No evidence of forced entry on any of the doors, and Scully’s briefcase still in the front passenger seat, meant, he hoped, that no one had seen her and so hadn’t suspected the car or her briefcase of holding anything important. And his knee whacked into the steering wheel as he tried to slip into the driver’s seat.

Skinner just managed not to swear. Of course he had to adjust the seat, he told himself as he adjusted it; Scully was shorter than he was. Even in her high heels she just came up to his shoulder — 

— and her mouth came up to his chest. Right where that odd feeling of warmth was. He glanced down inside his jacket and saw the telltale smudge of pink on his shirt, and could have sworn that it was somehow growing warmer. He patted his fingertips against it as if to calm it.

As he swung into the FBI parking lot he checked his watch. He left Scully’s briefcase in the car, knowing he didn’t have enough time before the meeting to give it back to her, and took the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

Visser still greeted him with, “You’re late, Skinner,” as soon as he walked in. “That means you’re taking the minutes.” The blonde-haired man tossed a yellow legal pad at him.

“I’m just fine, Visser. How are you?” Skinner retorted, taking off his overcoat and hanging it in the closet before he joined the others around the conference table. He remembered not to unbutton his jacket just as he sat down, and was careful reaching for his pen. Even so, the lipstick stain insisted on its presence, now warm enough to convince him it was slowly burning him. 

“Don’t mind him,” Dunn said. She shot Visser a warning look as Skinner again briefly patted the place where Scully’s lips had pressed against him. “He’s just mad the Redskins lost.” 

“Is that going in the minutes?” Skinner asked, uncapping his pen and writing the date on the legal pad. Part of him wondered why these meetings always started so inanely. Another part thought about Scully’s mouth on his shirt and that, in some strange way, it was still there. 

“If we’re going on the record,” Hewitt said, pouring herself some more coffee, “then put down that he would have run the ball on third and fifteen from goal.” She lifted the carafe in Skinner’s direction in question. He shook his head. He didn’t need to get any hotter than he already was. 

What he needed was a distraction, something totally removed from the conference room and the Hoover Building and all its associations — especially with a certain redheaded field agent. Something that wouldn’t remind him of how that hair could catch fire in a stray beam of light as she sat in his office and tilted her head to quell her partner with a look of skeptical disdain. Or of how coolly intrigued a pair of blue eyes could become during a briefing when he brought up an angle on a case that she hadn’t thought of. Or of the stubborn defiance smoldering in those same eyes only that morning. Or of the pair of lips that the pale pink stain on his shirt belonged to, and the small spot of burning heat that was spreading to everywhere his body and Scully’s had touched when she’d been inside his coat — hip to hip, thigh to thigh — 

“…hadn’t run the bootleg,” Kuhn maintained as Skinner focused back in on the conversation. 

Football was good. He never associated Scully with football. 

“Are you serious?” Visser demanded. “Listen, if _I’d_ been their quarterback — ”

_…and then Skinner was breaking the huddle and following his center to the line of scrimmage. The football helmet obscured Scully’s delicate features and the pads obscured just about everything else, but her uniform pants definitely fit her like a second skin as she bent over and took hold of the ball. He enjoyed the view before he closed the distance between them and bent over her. She suddenly bumped back against his left thigh, jerking her head slightly in that direction. He saw it and touched her left hip in acknowledgment, then started barking audibles, feeling Scully steady in front of him as he changed the play at the line. He reached between her legs for the ball she was ready to hike to him on his mark. The back of his hand stroked her inner thigh from her crotch to her knee and back again, and he felt her quiver briefly before she pushed back against him, settling her ass more firmly against his rapidly hardening…_

“ — excuse me!” Dunn broke in, exasperated. “Is there a remote possibility that we could move on at least one item on the agenda before, say, this time tomorrow?”

Skinner, startled, shifted in his chair. Football wasn’t the answer. But what could make that strange burning heat, as if Scully’s whole body was pressing against him, go away? He had to focus, not get distracted, concentrate on every word said at that table.

With deliberate care he read aloud as he wrote on the pad, “Redskins question: tabled.” He made it through the first two agenda items and started to relax as he announced, “Next item: travel reimbursement.” 

“I’d really like to know which genius revised the per diem rates!” Apel demanded.

Skinner said, “Seconded. Why in hell did they change the rates for the destinations they did?” 

Hamburg asked, all innocence, “What, no cases pending in Kiribati?”

He aimed a glare across the table. “Not recently, no.”

And Apel remained unimpressed. “Well, the next time a field agent is machete-ing his way through the Amazon jungle — ”

_…and then Skinner saw Scully sitting at the river’s edge untying her hiking boots. She pulled off her boots and socks, stood up, and started unbuttoning her overshirt. The white tank top underneath, soaked through with sweat, clung transparently to her chest and torso. She wiped her face and neck with the overshirt before she dropped it to the ground, then she undid her shorts and skimmed them and her panties over her hips with a little wiggle, turning her back to him. Her arms stretched over her head and her back arched in a graceful curve as she pulled her tank top off, and then she waded into the water to her waist before she plunged in. Then she surfaced, head tilted back, eyes closed, wet hair dark as blood against the pale column of her exposed throat, nipples tight and dark against the taut curves of her breasts. She blinked water out of her eyes and glanced towards the shore, and wide-eyed shock at being seen rapidly turned into appreciation, and definite interest, at seeing Skinner just as naked as she was..._

“ — not what it looks like!” Kuhn insisted. “If you’d been listening, that’d be perfectly clear!”

_Walter Sergei, get a grip!_

Skinner dragged himself back to the present with an effort, and to his great surprise found that his pen, acting independently of his brain, had actually been taking notes through another agenda item. He resisted the urge to loosen his tie and settled instead for a deep breath. His shirt pulled taut with the movement and the lipstick stain on it pressed harder against his chest — as did the phantom pair of lips that put it there, and the heat already enveloping him rose exponentially. 

“We’ve _all_ been listening — we’ve all been sitting at the same table, for God’s sake!” Dunn snapped. 

Kuhn wheeled on Dunn, but Hewitt gave them both a long-suffering look and asked, only half-joking, “Are you two going to behave or am I going to have to get the principal in here?”

_…and then Principal Scully walked into the classroom in a severely tailored gray suit, her red hair pulled back in a tight bun, her horn-rimmed glasses making her blue eyes as cold as ice. Skinner straightened involuntarily, vague feelings of guilt washing over him as her shoes tapped out a deliberately measured stride on the linoleum. She stopped by his desk and stared down her nose at him. He braced for a harangue, a stinging rap across the knuckles with a ruler, an order to stand in front of the whole student body and have his faults enumerated out loud. And then he noticed that there was one thing about her that wasn’t hard and tight and angular — her lips. They were moist, an inviting pearly pink, slightly parted as she held his gaze. She leaned closer, closer still, her eyes still holding a potent threat, and he didn’t dare look away. Suddenly her hand shot out and she jerked his head back and kissed him hard, those lips making his own part for her tongue. She guided his hand underneath her suit jacket…_

“ — morale’s a legitimate concern!” 

Skinner blinked hard, remembering where he was as Hamburg, making her point, continued, “Relationships between supervisors and subordinates are just as important as — ”

_Perfect, just what I need to have discussed right now…_

“But what you’re proposing would — turn the Hoover Building into the ‘Summer of Love’ all over again,” Apel countered, looking disgusted.

Visser gestured with thumb and index finger. “Exaggerating just that much, aren’t you? Look, why do you think any of this would lead to…dancing down the hallways to the Grateful Dead or chanting ‘Make Love Not War’ — ”

_…and then Skinner was lying on his back looking up at the night sky. Beside him, Scully sat cross-legged on the grass, stroking Skinner’s bare chest and swaying to the Dead’s “Dark Star.” Skinner moved his hand beneath the curtain of Scully’s long red hair, tracing up and down her spine with his fingertips. She shivered, ticklish, then leaned into his touch, encouraging his whole hand to caress her. He undid the bottom of her halter top, giving his hand a clear path from her neck to the waist of her patchwork skirt, and savored the warm, graceful curve of her back against his palm. She turned, her eyes dreamy and playful as she held his gaze, and untied the top of her halter, letting it fall away._

_He pulled her down to him, eager to taste the rosy tips of her breasts peeking through the fall of her hair. She climbed on top of him, squirming purposefully against the hard-on trapped inside his jeans as she held herself above him, her breasts dangling in his face. He laved her nipples, first one then the other in turn until they’d tightened to small, dark buds. Then he pressed her breasts together as if to get them both in his mouth at the same time, moving between them sucking, licking hungrily. With a long, low moan she lowered herself onto him and moved down his body, pausing to caress his mouth with hers for a long, deep, wet moment that made him ache with surprise when she raised her head. But she continued to move downward, and he reached between their bodies and undid his jeans for her. She freed his penis and he groaned aloud as first her hand, then her mouth took possession of him. His thighs tensed and his stomach quivered as her mouth moved back and forth along his cock when suddenly she released his penis, and moved so that it thrust between her breasts. He reached down, caressing her nipples with his thumbs and fondling the swelling curves of her flesh together around his cock as his hips started to…_

“ — Skinner?” Hewitt regarded him calmly, waiting for an answer.

He glanced down briefly at his notepad as if considering, and saw that they had moved to adjourn. “Motion carried,” he said emphatically. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Skinner grabbed his overcoat, dropped the minutes by his office for Kimberly to type up, and went back outside, thankful for the bite of cold air against his face. But it was the only part of him that felt the cold as he walked to the parking lot. Even though he hadn’t bothered to button his overcoat, the sharp breeze had no effect on him — 

...as if Scully were pressed close against him as he pulled his coat around her, shielding her from harm…

Skinner ignored the memory of how he’d rescued Scully that morning and marched briskly to her requisitioned car. He checked the trunk to see if she’d left anything there and then moved to the rear car door to check for anything on the back seat, and his arm moved — 

…as if to encircle Scully’s waist, lifting her, still hidden in his coat, into the car, onto the back seat. He let go of her and she lay beneath him, her hair spread out like a bright halo framing her ashen face and her eyes, locked with his, darkened with fear for their safety …

And nothing more. Skinner got Scully’s briefcase and slammed the passenger side door hard. _Damn it, what the hell’s gotten into you today?_ he demanded as he walked away from the car. The very last person who would read anything even remotely sexual into his actions that morning was totally professional, absolutely unflappable Special Agent Scully herself, and no matter what inappropriate, improper, and just-plain-wrong places his mind had wandered during the meeting, he had to stop it all here and now. 

Skinner turned in the car keys at the requisition desk and went to the basement office, Scully’s briefcase tucked under one arm. He knocked on the door.

There was a slight thud, as if he’d startled Scully and she’d dropped something, and then she called out, “Come in.”

He took a deep breath, opened the door and leaned in. “I’d like to discuss something with you, Agent Scully,” he said in his most neutrally authoritative voice. And despite himself, found himself staring at her lips, pale pink and slightly parted, the tip of her tongue darting out ever-so-briefly to moisten them.

Now why was she smiling at him like that?


	3. Full Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knew she wasn’t, couldn’t be, thinking straight. She didn’t care. She only knew that Skinner wasn’t leaving until he’d given her exactly what she wanted.

“I’d like to discuss something with you, Agent Scully,” Skinner said as he leaned into the doorway of the basement office. 

Reality and fantasy crashed headlong into each other for Scully at the sight of the A.D., coming to see her just as he had in her fevered imaginings only minutes before. With new appreciation she took in the sharp planes of his scowling face, the fierce eyes behind the polished glasses, the way his broad shoulders filled out the heavy black overcoat. She knew she wasn’t, couldn’t be, thinking straight. She didn’t care. 

She only knew that Skinner wasn’t leaving until he’d given her exactly what she wanted.

“Of course, sir,” she answered, and gestured for him to enter.

Skinner just managed not to stare at her. A small smile that was warm, inviting, even speculative, curved her pale pink lips.

Wishful thinking. A leftover nudge from his overactive libido, and that was enough of that, thank you very much. There were better odds on hell treating a snowball right than Special Agent Dana Scully coming on to him. 

Outwardly, he nodded and closed the door behind him; it wasn’t his practice to reprimand subordinates in full view of other agents. He held out her briefcase. “I believe this is yours.”

She arose from the table she was using as a desk. “Yes. I didn’t get a chance to — ”

“I know.” He fixed her with what he hoped was one of his “I’m thisclose to demanding your badge!” stares — hoped, because he couldn’t help being distracted by the delicate blush coloring her usually ivory skin, the intensity of her blue eyes as she looked at him, as if…

_As if what_? he demanded of himself as she took the briefcase from him.

She turned her back to him and, instead of setting the briefcase down on the table, she bent herself over her chair to place it on the floor on the far side. Her skirt rode up to reveal more than just a hint of thigh and pulled taut, precisely outlining the curves of her ass.

Skinner’s reaction was swift and undeniable, and he silently thanked the gods for the full cut of his trousers. She probably had no idea what the view looked like from here, much less what it was doing to him.

As if to prove his point, when she straightened and turned back to him she didn’t smooth her skirt down, obviously unaware of how much leg she was showing. How much slender, shapely leg. How much strong, creamy, slender, shapely — he was going to have to order her to wear pantsuits from now on, he thought desperately, even as he fought the sudden, vivid picture of those legs wrapping around him…

She gestured at the office chairs holding teetering piles of paperwork and open books. “Mulder doesn’t get many guests down here,” she explained apologetically. “Would you — ?” She maneuvered over to Mulder’s desk, started pulling his chair out for Skinner to sit on.

“Not necessary. This won’t take long.” Curt. Cranky. At least his voice was under his control.

She gave him a wry look. “If you’re going to chew me out, sir, you might as well sit down like you usually do.” And she set the chair in front of the desk for him.

The exertion had somehow loosened the top button of her jacket. The neck of it was low enough that he could see she was wearing no blouse underneath, was wearing the jacket itself as a top. Only the slightest, smallest, tiniest of efforts would unseat that button…

The phone on Mulder’s desk rang. They both stared at it blankly for a second, and then Scully murmured, “Excuse me, sir,” and squeezed between him and the table to get to the phone. Bodies touched in passing, for a split second the full length of her was pressed against him, her hair tickling his chin, her breath a warm caress against his throat, and then legs and thighs and breasts and arms slid by and were on the other side of Mulder’s desk, attached to the woman who picked up the phone and answered, “Scully.”

Very deliberately, not wanting to look as if their brief contact had just sent a jolt of heat all the way through him, not wanting her to guess just how grateful he was for the overcoat between her and his all-too-physical response to the feel of her, he sat down in Mulder’s chair.

“No, Mulder’s not here,” she said. “He’s…”

Skinner heard the pause and realized that even Scully didn’t know where he’d sent Mulder that morning. He turned his head and looked at her.

Her jacket had come unbuttoned at the top.

“Baltimore,” he said, focusing on her face. “The Summerson case.” A shaft of sunlight found its way through one of the windows above her, making her red hair burn like a smoldering ember.

She repeated the information to the caller, who apparently asked her to take a message because she started hunting around for paper and pen. Then she propped the phone between her shoulder and ear and hunched over the desk to write.

_No, Agent Scully, don’t — !_

Black lace. He could see straight down the opened neck of her jacket to the black lace bra inside, the scraps of fabric barely containing her breasts as gravity and the angle of her posture did their work and filled the bra to overflowing with pale, smooth, deliciously rounded flesh that his hands…

Skinner folded his arms firmly over his chest, suddenly afraid his hands would move where his imagination put them. 

Scully hung up the phone and straightened, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she read over the message. On anyone else it would have been a perfectly innocent expression. On her mouth the little moue was a crime waiting to happen. 

And he knew only one way to fight back.

Scully taped the piece of paper to Mulder’s computer monitor and looked back at Skinner, who arose to face her. His glare was obdurate, absolutely implacable, the worst storm warning she’d ever seen. The A.D. was just barely keeping some emotion in check, and it didn’t look one bit like unbridled lust. 

“Were you under the impression, Agent Scully, that I came down here just to ‘chew you out’?” he demanded, his words clipped and precise but edged with cold fury. “That there was nothing serious about the situation this morning? That you weren’t in imminent danger of losing your _life_?” 

She stared at him, stunned. The accusation was blatantly unfair. And as he towered over her, his powerful body tense with control, she realized that if she’d thought he was hot when he walked through the door, she hadn’t known what hot was. Trying to buy time to think, she ventured, “Was there any trouble upstairs afterwards?” 

“No thanks to you, no,” he said dryly, his tone undercut with icy menace. 

She clenched her hands into hard fists to keep from trembling. She was more furious at his unjustified words than she could ever remember being. But oh, god, she wanted him! The arms refolding across his chest — she wanted them folding around her, crushing her that close to him, she wanted to feel that harsh, unyielding mouth on hers, kissing her, caressing her throat, opening against her breasts… 

As Skinner watched her face blanch at his first words, and then suffuse with color as she heard his overstatement for what it was, he realized with a small shock that he’d made a tactical error. He’d been so concerned with saving his dignity he hadn’t remembered the simple fact that although Scully would calmly accept criticism, even censure, when she felt she deserved it, when she knew she didn’t she fought back. It was a confrontation he didn’t want, with a woman he absolutely had to get away from.

Because the other part of his error was that white-hot ire had turned her eyes dark, had caused a flush to spread from her face down the column of her neck and all the way between her breasts, had made her breathe hard with agitation so that those breasts heaved in a truly unsettling way. Sunlight set her hair aflame, and with her slim shoulders squared to take him on and her hands balled into fists as if she were ready to slug it out if it came to that, she looked vitally alive, and unbearably sexy. What he wouldn’t give to reach for her across that desk and try to make her surrender, not with words but with hands and mouth and other parts of his anatomy he didn’t dare give too much thought to…

So he put on the hard-ass persona again. “But there just as easily could have been trouble. And we both know that.”

Scully’s chin lifted in defiance. The need to have him warred with the need to make him set the record straight and she found herself retorting, “Yes, but that’s all we _both_ know. Is there anything else you’d like to share with me about what exactly happened this morning?”

“What are you implying, Agent Scully?” And the act of being angry began to turn real.

“Nothing. I _know_ you withheld information from me, sir; you admitted it yourself.”

“We obviously need to review chain of command.” His eyes narrowed ominously as he leaned over the desk. “When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed without question.”

She didn’t back down. “This is not about following or not following orders. This is about your not giving me the facts I needed to do my job. What happened this morning is a direct result of your not trusting me with full disclosure.”

“Have I missed something?” His tone was both sarcastic and menacing. “Did the FBI change policy and procedure when I was on vacation? Or where does it say that an Assistant Director — ”

“Do you even know what this is about, what this all started over?” She came out from behind Mulder’s desk.

With the same voice that stopped agents dead in their tracks, Skinner demanded, blocking her way, “Where do you think you’re going, Agent Scully?”

But she was beyond being intimidated, didn’t bother answering him as she tried to push past. Height and bulk were on his side and he stopped her easily. Jaw stubbornly set, she stared up at him. 

And defiance melted into something else altogether. “Th-there’s a file you need to see, in my briefcase — ”

He heard the stutter, and would have been surprised at that if the change in her expression hadn’t struck him even more. The full weight of her in mid-stride had propelled her firmly against him, and she had to be able to feel the evidence of her effect on him.

But she turned away, didn’t even know why she tried to dodge around him to get to her briefcase, suddenly unsure now that he knew — and she knew…

He was having none of it, not after what he saw in her eyes. He took her waist in his hands and pulled her hard up against him inside his coat, her back to his front. “That’s enough, Agent Scully,” he said in her ear in a harsh whisper. “So you’d like full disclosure? Is that it? You think I’m holding out on you?”

She closed her eyes, unable to escape and realizing that she didn’t want to. “Yes, sir,” she answered unsteadily.

“Then I’ll hold nothing back,” he promised, unbuttoning her jacket. “And I expect you to do the same.”

Strong hands caressed her arms, easing the jacket off her. He kissed her neck as he cupped her breasts in his hands, causing her bra straps to slip off her shoulders, and his mouth moved to explore the exposed flesh. She reached behind and undid her bra and it joined the discarded jacket on the table. 

She moaned, arching her breasts more deeply into his hands, his palms and thumbs and fingertips teasing her nipples to hardness as her body writhed helplessly and rubbed against his erect penis. Her arm went around his neck and drew his mouth to hers, wide open, wet.

When she tried to turn he pushed her forward instead so that she was leaning against the table. She grabbed its edges as he undid her skirt and let it slide past her hips and down to the floor, then eased her nylons and black lace panties down her legs. She stepped out of her high-heeled pumps so he could remove her hose, but immediately stepped back into her shoes; she could feel that without them she wouldn’t be the right height for him to enter her — and she did want him to enter her. 

His overcoat was thrown onto the table, spilling over the sides and cushioning the edge of the table as he leaned his weight into her, reminding her he was still there as he undressed.

He placed her hand on his cock. She gasped at the feel of it filling her hand, hot and pulsing, slick with pre-come. She’d never had anyone that large inside her. But she had to have him and, bending over, guided him to her wet, willing entrance.

He rubbed his penis against the lips of her vagina, coating it a little more before he pressed forward. She reached behind, spreading her lips apart for him, begging him. He thrust forward, burying himself in her with one sure stroke. And then he began to move deep and slow. 

She buried her face in his coat, her already-sensitive nipples rubbing against the satin lining as he gradually speeded up until he was thrusting hard and fast, and she desperately tried to muffle her cries. She was trembling, only the table and his weight keeping her upright at all. He reached between her legs for her throbbing clit and she came, trapped between his cock and his hand. She convulsed around him, and the pressure triggered his orgasm.

He held her tight, nuzzling her, silencing his own gasps against her sweaty skin. Somehow they made it to her chair and sat down with her in his lap as they tried to recover.

He tilted her face up and they kissed slowly, carefully, thoroughly. And Scully felt a stirring underneath her hip. She looked at Skinner, amused, as he encouraged her hands to investigate and explained,

“Full disclosure. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m deliberately withholding anything from you…”

**_FIN_ **


End file.
